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Those Dreadful Drews 



A Comedy in One Act 



BY 
HELLEN MORRISON HOWIE 

Author of "AFT^R THE MATINEE." etc. 




PHILADELPHIA 
THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1910 






Copyright 1910 by The Penn Publishing Company 



CI.D 2t>43S 



Those Dreadful Drewa 



'^^ 



Those Dreadful Drews 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 



Mrs. Richard Whitney 



Julia 

Mrs. Clarke . 

Mrs. Roberts . 

Anastas7\ Drew 

Ruby 



w/io lives 7iext door to * ' those 
dreadful Drews ^ 

. her daughter. 

her sister. 

her friend. 

. her 7ieighbor's daughter. 

her maid-servant. 



Time : — The present. 

Place : — A suburb of New York. 

Time in Representation : — One hour. 



COSTUMES 

Mrs. Whitney, age about thirty-eight years, attractive 
morning gown, slightly negligee. 

Julia, age eighteen. Pretty, girlish dress, light and sum- 
mery in style. 

Mrs. Clark. | Women of about the same age as Mrs. 

Mrs. Roberts. ] Whitney. Handsomely tailored walk- 
ing suits. Both wear hats. 

Anastasia Drew, about eighteen or twenty years. A 
very stylish and handsome summer dress with big picture 
hat. Hat is trimmed with red roses. 

Ruby. Black maid's dress with white apron. 

3 



Those Dreadful Drews 



SCENE. — Tastefully furnished interior, boxed set. At 
the lefty toward the front, a writing- desk with telepho7ie ; 
at the right, near cetitre, a table on which are placed 
some hat- boxes, also books, magazines and paper-knife ; 
at the back, to the right, a door ; another to the left, both 
portiered, chairs, etc., about room; Mrs. Richard 
Whitney, an attractive woman, is discovered seated at 
the desk ; she is writifig hurriedly, a set look on her face. 

(Julia, a pretty girl of eighteen, e?iters r.) 

Mrs. W. (without looking up). Has your Aunt Rachel 
come ? 

Julia. Not yet. (Somewhat petulantly.) It's no use, 
mamnfia. I can't find my hat anywhere. I've looked for 
it high and low. 

Mrs. W. (as before ; indifferently). Look again. (Julia, 
7vith a smothered exclamation and an iinpatient movement 
of the shoulders, opens some of the boxes on the table ; she 
lets one fall, spilling its contents of fioivers, bits of ribbons, 
lace, etc. Mrs. W., who has Just finished addressing two 
letters, turns.) What are you doing, child? 

Julia (picking up the box). Looking for it. 

Mrs. W. Do you expect to find it there ? 

Julia. No, I don't expect to find it anywhere. This is 
Wednesday. 

Mrs. W. Wednesday. What has that got to do with 
it? 

Julia. Have you forgotten what the palmist at Atlantic 
City said? That I never would have any luck on a 
Wednesday. 

Mrs. W. (exasperated). Julia, if you mention that 
palmist again, I declare I'll (Stops.) 

Julia (almost in tears). Well, mamma, hasn't every- 
thing he said come true; didn't he tell me that we were 
going to move ; how did he know that ? 



6 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

iMrs. \V. He didn't. 1 didn't myself until an hour ago. 

Julia. How about my losing something? 

Mrs. \V. That was easy. You are always losing some- 
thing. 

Julia. And about my having a disappointment ? There's 
that visit to Alice I have had to give up on account of this 
moving. 

Mrs. W. Life is full of disappointments, as you will 
learn without the aid of a palmist. 

Julia. But you will admit that he must possess some 
sort of occult power to be able to tell me my name? 

Mrs. W. {with a half smile). Not at all. I could have 
told you your name. 

Julia. You are just making fun of me ! 

Mrs. W. When a certain little maiden I know is so 
silly as to be gulled by the cheap cleverness of a boardwalk 
fakir, it is time some one made fun of her. 

Julia. But mamma 

Mrs. W. {cutting her short ivith a motion of the hand'). 
There, that will do ! Run and post these letters. (JUlia 
picks lip some of the bits of lace and fioivers that are scat- 
tered about on the floor by the table.) Never mind that 
now. It is important that these should be mailed imme- 
diately. 

Julia {taking the letters). Father is going to feel very 
badly about this moving. 

Mrs. W. Father isn't the only one who is going to feel 
badly. 

Julia. You know how he loves this place. 

Mrs. W. It is that fact that has kept me here for five 
years. 

Julia. You have stood it so long 

Mrs. VV. {interrupting). Too long. 

Julia. I know. But what's the use of being in such a 
hurry and upsetting all our plans, and {almost in tears) I 
think it is just — just too bad. I really do ! 

Mrs. W. {with deliberate emphasis). Julia, we are go- 
ing to move, and at once. And the sooner you stop whining 
and resign yourself to the inevitable, the better. 

{^ Phone rings ; Mrs. W. goes to the desk.) 

Julia {indignantly). Whining ! Mamma, I never knew 
you to be so — so unjust ! {Exit, r.) 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 7 

Mrs. \V. {iit the 'phone). Hello! {Pause.) Is that 
you, Dick? I was just going to call you up. {Pause.) 
No, I am not your dear wife. I'm a changed woman. 
You wouldn't know me. I don't know myself, and our 
daughter looks at me with alien eyes. {Pause.) What is 
it? It's the last straw. It's the turning worm. It's the 
end. I can't stand it any longer, and I'm going — that's all ! 
{Pause.) A joke? I hope you will think so this evening. 
By the way, perhaps you had better stay in town to-night. 
Things are going to be uncomfortable and upset here. 
{Pause.) Wild! I have no doubt you will say so. {Pause.) 
No, — not a week, nor a day. {Pause.) What's it all 
about? Oh, nothing new. Same old trouble — those dread- 
ful Drews ! {Pause.) I can't explain now, and please, 
Dick, don't try to reason with me. I'm beyond that. I've 
got to get away from this neighborhood — that's all there 
is about it, and I'm going. {Pause.) Yes, — to-day! 
{Pause.) Well, I'm listening. What is it? Go on. 
{Pause.) What's that? Mr. and Mrs. Tyson on from 
Buffalo and you are going to send her up for lunch with us. 
Are you? {Sarcastically; with a change of tone.) By all 
means ! Delighted ! With your usual judgment, foresight 
and discrimination, you have picked out the day from all 
the three hundred and sixty-five. (/// her previous tone.) 
Dick Whitney, if you dare ! Wait a minute ! Dfck 
{louder) , Dick ! No use. {Hangs up receiver, walks from 
the desk as Ruby enters, door r.) Well, what is it ? 

Ruby. Please, ma'am, there are two men at the door. 
They say they are packers from Bartlett's. I told them it 
wasn't for here. But they insist that we are going to move. 

Mrs. W. They're right. 

Ruby {gasping with astonishment). To move ! 

Mrs. W. Yes, — to move ! Don't stand there gasping 
like a sick gold-fish. I said, — to move ! 

Ruby {trying to recover herself). Not to-day ! 

Mrs. W. Yes, to-day ! Hurry ! {Pushes Ruby be- 
fore her.) To move to-day ! To move to-day ! 

{They exeunt, door r.) 

{Enter Mr?,. Clarke and ]uua, door l. The former is 
a pleasant-faced ivoman with a quiet, sympathetic 
manner.) 



8 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

Julia. Oh, Aunt Rachel, I'm so glad you came over. 
Things are in an awful mess here. 

Mrs. C. {seeing the scraps on the floor). So I see. 

Julia. We are going to move. This very day ! 

Mrs. C. Yes. Your mother 'phoned me. Whereto? 

Julia. Nowhere. (Mrs. C. smiles.) I mean nobody 
knows. 

Mrs. C. Isn't this very sudden? 

Julia, Sudden ! 1 should say so. Even father hasn't 
heard. We took our breakfast as usual 

Mrs. C. {i7iterrupting). That was fortunate. 

Julia. And, well, about half an hour after something 
happened — I don't know what — but the first thing I heard 
was mamma 'phoning for the packers. When I asked her 
what it was all about, she just said that she had made up 
her mind to move. And she looked so cross, I was really 
afraid to question her any further. I have never seen 
mamma act as she has done to-day. {Appealingly .) Can't 
you do something ? 

Mrs. C. I'll try. 

Julia (Jiopelessly). Not that it will be of any use. It's 
fate. Houdan predicted it. 

Mrs. C. Houdan! Who's she? 

{Picks tip one or two scraps of lace and flowers.) 

Julia. It isn't a she. It's a he. Please don't bother 
about them, Aunt Rachel. That's nothing to the mess that 
things will be in, in a few hours. He's a palmist — the 
great Houdan. You must have heard of him. 

Mrs. C. Please remember that I have been living for 
several years in a remote corner of Europe, where the fame 
of your renowned Houding hasn't penetrated. 

Julia. Houdan. Mamma makes fun of me when I talk 
about him. But, Aunt Rachel, he is perfectly wonderful, 
and the things he has told me are simply beyond ! He said 
I was going to lose something, and I have lost my hat, 
and 

Mrs. C. {interrupting). Your hat? 

Julia. Yes. And a whole lot of other disagreeable 
things, and they are all coming true. 

Mrs. C. {straightening a spray of green leaves). Here's 
a four-leafed clover. Let me put it in your hair. It may 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 9 

protect you from the dire predictions of the pessimistic 
Houding — Houdee. 

Julia. Houdan. Do you like my hair in this style? 

Mrs. C. Very much. 

Julia. To think that I went to all the trouble of having 
it arranged this way for my new hat ! 

Mrs. C. (^putting the spray in Julia's hair). You say 
you have no idea what made your mother take this sudden 
resolution ? 

Julia. No. But, of course, it is something connected 
with the Drews. 

Mrs. C. Your next door neighbors ? 

Julia. Yes. 

Mrs. C. Why do you say " of course " ? 

Julia. Because it always is. {Puts her hand to her 
hair.) Oh ! 

Mrs. C. I beg your pardon. There ! It's fixed now. 

Julia. Mamma has them on the brain. It is a perfect 
mania with her. Their very name gives her a spasm. 

Mrs. C. What's the matter with them? 

Julia. Nothing. 

Mrs. C. My dear, that doesn't sound reasonable. 

Julia. I know it doesn't. But it's true. 

Mrs. C. Is your mother the only one whom they affect 
so unpleasantly ? Do you like them ? 

Julia. No, I can't bear them. 

Mrs. C. Why ? 

Julia. I don't know; I've never been able to tell just 
why. 

Mrs. C. This is getting mteresting. 

Julia. It sounds foolish, I know. But there are other 
people who feel the same way about it. 

Mrs. C. You mean that they dislike them without know- 
ing exactly why ? 

Julia. Yes. 

Mrs. C. {after a slight, thoughtful pause). May I ask 
how many members compose this unusual family? 

Julia. Just two, Mrs. Drew and her daughter, Anastasia. 

Mrs. C. Anastasia ! That name sheds a light. I can 
see her. 

{^Folds her hands and puts on the expression of a prim 

old maid.) 



10 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

Julia {with a laugh). Wrong ! She is just my age and 
pretty. 

Mrs. C. Really ? 

Julia. Really and truly. {Sound of hammering with- 
out ; after listening; in sudden pattic.) Can it be that the 
packers are at work already? I'll run and tell mamma you 
are here. And, oh ! Aunt Rachel, stop her — please do ! 

{Runs from the room, door l. A pause.) 

{Enter Mrs. W., door r.) 

Mrs. W. {in a relieved tone). Oh ! here you are. 

{Kisses her ; during the following Mrs. W. talks quietly ^ 
but the effort at self-control is at ti?nes apparent.) 

Mrs. C. Yes, I'm here. Just why — I don't know. 
Perhaps you will explain. What has happened? 

Mrs. W. Nothing new. The same old story — those 
dreadful Drews ! 

Mrs. C. What have they done now? 

Mrs. W. Nothing — as usual. 

Mrs. C. {somewhat impatiently). My dear Estelle, if I 
am going to understand this matter, I would like ! 

Mrs. W, {interruptifigf with a motiofi of the hand). 
Before we say another word, may I ask you to walk into the 
adjoining room, look out of the window, and tell me what 
you see in Mrs. Drew's back-yard ? (Mrs. C. stares.) 
No, I'm not suffering from brain-storms. Do as I say. 

Mrs. C. {repeating). I'm to walk into the adjoining 
room, look out of the window, and tell you what I see in 
Mrs. Drew's back-yard. It sounds like a game. 

Mrs. W. It is a game, and I have lost. {Leads Mrs. 
C. toward door r. ; Mrs. C. leaves the room with the air 
of one who is giving in to a caprice ; Mrs. W. stands inside 
the doorivay ; after a pause.) Well, what do you see? 
Mrs. C.^s voice is heard i?i the distance.) A maid hanging 
out clothes. Isawother maids hanging out clothes. Is there 
nothing peculiar about this particular maid ? (Mrs. C.'s 
voice as before.) Oh ! She looks like Betty, my cook, 
does she ? 

Mrs. C. {entering R.). Why, it is Betty. 

Mrs. W. You arc good at games, 1 see. {Dryly.) You 
guessed it right away. 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS II 

Mrs. C Yuu don't mean to say that the servant who has 
een in our family for so many years has actually left you 
and gone to work for the Drews? 

Mrs. W. Jt looks that way, doesn't it ? 

(7y/<ry seat themselves.) 

Mrs. C. When did she go ? 

Mrs. \V, I don't know. Last week she went home to 
see her mother. To-day — she is next door. 

Mrs. C. And you didn't know anything about this 
change ? 

Mrs. \V. Not until I saw her in that yard a couple of 
hours ago. 

Mrs. C. {after a slight, thoughtful pause ; with so?ne 
heat). I call it unprincipled on the part of your neighbors 
to bribe a girl as she must have ! 

Mrs. W. {inter rupti7ig). Mrs. Drew unprincipled ! How 
little you know her. 

Mrs. C. Of course, I don't know her, I've been away 
for three years and all this is new to me. But of one thing 
I'm sure — she bribed Betty, or she never would have gone — 
and it's all wrong ! 

Mrs. \V. My dear, Mrs. Drew is never wrong. 

Mrs. C. {inoving impatiently in her chair). Fiddle- 
sticks ! Nobody is perfect. 

Mrs. W. Except Mrs. Drew. 

Mrs. C. Then if she's all right — what's the matter with 
her ? Will you kindly explain ? 

Mrs. W. It is a case where explanation doesn't explain. 
You have to live next door to it. All I know is that Mrs. 
Drew will probably be in here to-day to tell me that she 
doesn't wish to have Betty — that she never has wished to 
have Betty — that she is trying in every possible way to get 
rid of Betty — but that Betty absolutely refuses to be got rid 
of — begging on bended knees for the privilege of serving 
such a perfect mistress. And the worst of it is — it will be 
true, every word of it ! 

Mrs. C. You don't mean to say that Betty was actually 
longing 

Mrs. W. {interrupting). To work for Mrs. Drew m- 
stead of me ? Can you doubt it ? I believe now that every 
time she went into my neighbor's blue and white kitchen, 
she was secretly wishing to be queen of such an attractive 



12 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

kingdom. That every time she did up Julia's lingerie, she 
regretted she wasn't fondly pressing Anastasia's fluffy ruffles 
instead. 

Mrs. C. Why, the woman's influence seems almost 
hypnotic. 

Mrs. W. Chaotic — I call it. (Ruby enters door r., 
holding a tray^ on which rests a bowl covered with a nap- 
kin ; Mrs. W. goes to her.) What is this? 

Ruby (somewhat apprehensively). Mrs. Drew sent it in. 

Mrs. W. Oh ! 

Ruby. It is some sort of dessert. I suppose she thought 
we would be very busy, seeing it was moving day, and with 
Betty gone. 

Mrs. W. How did she know it was moving day; did 
you tell her? 

Ruby (hastily ; with some trepidation). No, ma'am. 
That is — not exactly. Betty called over to me a few min- 
utes ago. 

Mrs. W. (interrupting ; witheringly). Just so. That 
will do. 

Ruby. Please, ma'am, what will I do with it? 

(Indicates the tray.) 

Mrs. W. (her forced composure giving way ; raising her 
voice). AVhat will you do with it? Anything you please. 
Give it to the poor ! Feed it to the dogs ! Throw it in 
the street ! Only take it out of my sight ! 

Ruby (tvith a frightened gasp ; backing from the 
room, R.). Yes, ma'am. 

Mrs. C. (remofistrating). Estelle ! Such a scene ! I'm 
surprised at you. I wouldn't act like that no matter how 
angry I felt. 

Mrs. W. Will you rent this house for a year? I'd like 
to note the effect of propinquity on your boasted equa- 
nimity. 

Mrs. C. (coldly). My dear sister, I defy Mrs. Drew or 
any one else to stir me into giving an exhibition of either 
nerves or temper, and I beg of you to control yourself before 
you say or do something for which you will be sorry. 

Mrs. W. Oh! I'll control myself. (Almost fiercely.) 
Only I hope, for my own sake, as well as hers, that Mrs. 
Drew won't come in to-day — that's all ! 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 1 3 

Mrs. C. {shocked). Estelle ! I don't know you in this 
mood ! 

Mrs. W. I don't know myself. When I moved in here, 
I think, I hope I had some claim to the title of lady. To-day 
I am a savage, — worse — I feel like the direct descendant of 
one of those anthropoid tribes who chased each other through 
the tangle of primeval forests and gave each other neigh- 
borly taps on the head with stone axes ! 

Mrs. C. (coficerfied). You must be ill. 

Mrs. W. I am. Temperature one hundred and five. 

i^ Phone rings.') 
(Julia enters y door l.) 

Julia. Mamma, please don't talk so loudly; they'll 
hear you next door. 

Mrs. W. 1 don't care if they do ! (Julia looks in 
helpless appeal at Mrs. C, zvho ^notions her to be silent ; 
Mrs. W., at the 'phone.) Hello! Who is this? (Pause.) 
Mr. Lansing, the real estate man? Oh 1 (Pause.) So 
you have got a house for us. That's good. I was afraid I 
would have to store my furniture and go to boarding. 
(Pause.) Too far away? No, you can't get far enough 
away to suit me. 

(Julia is about to protest ; Mrs. C. goes to her.) 

Julia (aside to Mrs. C). Did you hear that? I sup- 
pose we are going to get a home in some vast wilderness. 
How cheerful ! 

Mrs. W. (as before). Out of repair? Nevermind. We 
can attend to all that afterward. 

Julia (as before). Any old thing is good enough for us ! 

Mrs. W. (as before). Damp and malarious? Well, of 
course, that isn't pleasant. But I have found that there are 
worse things in a neighborhood than malaria, and if that's 
the only objection 

Mrs. C. (interrupting). Estelle ! Would you actually 
jeopardize the health of your family for the sake of 

Mrs. W. (cutting her short with a fnotion of the hand ; 
as before). You say that we can move in right away ? 
(Pause.) Very well; I'll take it. 

Julia (protesting). Mamma! (Appeals to Mrs. C.) 
Aunt Rachel — please ! 



14 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

Mrs. C. {going to Mrs. W.). Estelle, what folly! At 
least let some of us go and investigate before deciding on 
the place. 

Mrs. W. {luiheeding ; as be/ore). Where did you say it 
was? What Terrace? {Pause.) Drew Terrace! Did 1 
understand you to say Drew — {speilifig) D-r-e-w ? (Mrs. C. 
a?id]\5iAA. exchange incredulous and amused gla7ices ; pause.) 
In this case there happens to be a great deal in a name, and 
1 wouldn't have a house on that street if I never got one — 
do you understand ? {Pause.) No. I'm sorry. {Pause.) 
Impossible — quite. {Pause.) No; thank you. Good-bye. 
{Hangs up receiver ; without looking at them.) You're 
laughing, I know. 

Mrs. G. We are trying very hard not to. 

Julia {going to Mrs. VV., who is leavi?ig the room). 
Mamma, you must admit it was funny. 

Mrs. W. {%vith a twist of the mouth ; looking someivhat 
shaniefaced). Yes, I must admit it was rather funny. 

{Leaves the room, door r. ; Mrs. C. and Julia hide their 
faces in their handkerchiefs ; they look at each other j 
smiling broadly.) 

Julia. Wasn't it rich ? But my, what a narrow escape. 

Mrs. G. Where is this place — this Drew Terrace ? 

Julia. It's a filled-in swamp on the other side of the 
town. There is an old mansion there called "The House 
in the Marsh." 

Mrs. G. Doubtless the very place. 

Julia. Yes, and you may judge of the condition into 
Avhich mamma has worked herself, when she would even 
consider taking such a place. The very thought of it 
makes me shiver. 

Mrs. G. The name was a queer coincidence. 

Julia {laughing). Yes. {Imitates her mother* s voice.) 
Did you say Drew — {spelling) D-r-e-w ? I'll never say 
iliere is nothing in a name after this. 

{Enter Mrs. Roberts, door l. ; she is a fluent talker, with 
pleasant, easy 7na?i?iers.) 

Mrs. R. {as she enters). Tell me the joke, please. 
Julia {jumping up and running to her). Oh, Mis. 
Roberts, I'm so glad you came over ! 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 1 5 

Mrs. R. {to Mrs. C). Mrs. Clarke! This is delight- 
ful. {They shake ha?ids luarjnly.) When did you arrive? 

Mrs. C. I was sent for this morning; a sort of hurry 
call. 

Mrs. R. I see. 

Julia {to Mrs. R.)- You have heard the news? 

Mrs. R. Yes. Your mother 'phoned me. Where is 
she ? 

Julia. Mamma ? On the rampage. 

Mrs. C. {reprovingly). Julia ! 

Julia. I can't help it, Aunt Rachel. You don't know 
what I have had to put up with this morning. {Voice offh., 
catling.) There's mamma now. Excuse me. 

(^Goes up h.) 

Mrs. R. Just one moment. Before I forget. I met 
Mrs. Earle. She would like you to telephone and let her 
know if you are going to take part in the play at the West- 
chester Woman's Club next month. 

Julia {ruefully). I'll have to. Though there is noth- 
iiig in the world that I wouldn't rather do. But yesterday 
mamma heard that in the event of my refusal the role was 
to be assigned to Anastasia Drew. That settled it ! 

{Runs off, door l.) 

Mrs. C. Drew ! Drew ! I have heard nothing but that 
name all morning. I'm beginning to hate the sound of it. 

Mrs. R. Already? (Mrs. C. takes Mrs. R.'s wraps 
and places them on a chair near the door.) Thank you. 

Mrs. C. Yes — already. And now before we go any 
further, will you kindly sit down here { pus hifig forward a 
chair) and tell me all about them ? 

Mrs. R. {with a slight laugh ; seating herself). I wish 
you had asked me something easy. 

Mrs. C. {drawing up a chair and seating herself). 
Now don't evade. What is the matter with them ? 

Mrs. R. Nothing — and everything. 

Mrs. C. That's the sort of an answer I've been getting 
all morning. As for Estelle — she can't be calm long enough 
to be coherent. She is really beside herself. 

Mrs. R. I can sympathize with her. I've been there. 
And you would be just the same under the circumstances. 



l6 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

Mrs. C. Never. But tell me about them. Give me 
some facts. 

Mrs. R. Facts? That isn't easy. For you see the 
whole matter is sort of psychic. Still I can give you one 
fact, and a very substantial one, you'll admit. I lived next 
door to Mrs. Drew for two years — in number forty. When 
I moved into that house, I weighed one hundred and sixty 
pounds. The day I moved out I was down to one hundred 
and ten. That's one fact for you — fifty pounds. 

Mrs. C. {amused). Mrs. Drew in a new role — the great 
cure for obesity. How did she do it ? 

Mrs. R. She didn't do it. But it is significant that it 
happened when I resided in her immediate neighborhood. 

Mrs. C. More facts, please. 

Mrs. R. (after a slight^ thoughtful pause'). How would 
you like to live next door to a person who led a sort of 
charmed life — who seemed to be immune to the petty trials, 
worries and pin-pricks of existence — who never got a thorn 
with her roses, nor had her bread fall on the buttered 
side? 

Mrs. C. {with a smile). Why, I don't know. You see, 
I never lived next door to — to {Searches for a word.) 

Mrs. R. Perfection. You may congratulate yourself. 
For I assure you, it is a tremendous strain on ordinary hu- 
man nature. (Significantly.) I couldn't tell you how often 
I have felt that this world was not the place for Mrs. 
Drew. 

Mrs. C. I think my sister is feeling that way this morn- 
ing — only more so. The latest is, that Betty the cook has 
gone over to the Drew camp. 

Mrs. R. No ! Really ? 

Mrs. C. Yes. And I am very much of the opinion that 
Mrs. Drew has used some underhand means to 

Mrs. R. (interrupting). Which shows how little you 
know the lady in question. Mrs. Drew was never known to 
do anything wrong. 

Mrs. C. Of course, those are only phrases. You don't 
expect me to beHeve them. It's absurd ! I'll warrant she 
is no better than any one else. In fact, I'm sure she isn't. 

Mrs. R. The Drew microbe is working already. 

Mrs. C. I must confess that I am beginning to have a 
feeling that is — well — the reverse of friendly. But go on, 
please. 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 1 7 

Mrs. R. There is nothing to tell, except that all the un- 
pleasant things seemed to happen to me and others in the 
neighborhood, while Mrs. Drew, in some miraculous way, 
escaped. For instance, the summer we had that dreadful 
storm, Mrs. Drew's house was the only one on the block 
that escaped uninjured. Of course, there was a reason for 
it. My husband had it all arranged like a geometrical 
problem. Our house was just at the proper angle to shield 
hers from the blast, etc., etc. But it didn't make me feel 
any better when I got out the next morning to find that 
there was hardly a leaf off her rubber plant, while my gar- 
den was a ruin and my front awning a shred. 

Mrs. C. But she couldn't help the storm. She wasn't 
to blame for that. 

Mrs. R. Of course not. And I tell you, she never is 
to blame for anything. But I blamed her just the same. 
And had you lived next door to her that morning, you 
would have done as I did. It isn't reasonable. But it's 
human. You see if something disagreeable had happened 
to her — ^just once — one could have borne it. But no, with 
her, immunity was the invariable rule. If every child in 
the neighborhood was shaking himself with the whooping- 
cough, do you suppose that anything so undignified as a 
whoop ever came out of little Anastasia ? Oh, dear, no ! 
She played with the others right along, but never took it. 
The same with the measles. Not a youngster escaped — ex- 
cept Anastasia. No horrid rash marred the beauty of that 
alabaster forehead. Then the day that Johnnie Smith got 
burned — Anastasia Drew put him up to the mischief and 
was standing right by when the thing exploded, but do you 
suppose she got hurt? Oh, no ! 

Mrs. C. Mrs. Drew's chief crime seems to be the fact 
of her remarkable good fortune. Even the laws of nature 
seem to suspend their operations out of consideration for her 
feelings. 

Mrs. R. Exactly. I was always prepared, after a thun- 
der-storm had spoiled our milk, to have Mrs. Drew's Katy 
lean across the hedge and tell our Mary that their milk was 
perfectly sweet. 

Mrs. C. {amused). Enough to turn the milk of human 
kindness itself. 

Mrs. R. It did. I assure you I was thoroughly sour on 
sweet Mrs. Drew. 



l8 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

Mrs. C. Is she sweet ? 

Mrs. R. Oh, saccharine — with a very high poUsh on 
her manners. But I don't like her, and in that 1 assure you 
I am not unique. 

Mrs. C. Why ? How does she affect you ? 

Mrs. R. As I have heard that the electric bath does 
some people — she leaves me prickly all over. 

Mrs. C. Oh ! 

Mrs. R. It isn't anything that she does or says, but by 
some subtle process she puts you in the wrong — makes you 
feel insignificant and depressed, or raging in a baffled sort 
of way. (Mrs. W. enters unseen.) When I bid her good- 
bye, 1 may be, I hope I am, outwardly smiling, but inwardly 
I am ravening wolves ! 

Mrs. C. I think I begin to understand. 

Mrs. W. (adva?idng). Oh, no. You have to live next 
door to understand. 

Mrs. R. [kissing Mrs. W.). So you are going at last? 

Mrs. W. Yes. If I stay she will hypnotize me into for- 
giving her, as she has done for the past five years. I am 
going, if for nothing else than to indulge in the luxury of 
hating her. 

Mrs. C. My dear ! 

Mrs. R. Let her give vent to it. It will do her good. 
I've been there. 

(^Enter Julia, with a sheet of paper in her hafid.) 

Julia. It's no use, mamma. I can't take this part. 
"The Unwilling Soubrette " is beyond me. 

Mrs. W. The Unwilling Soubrette, did you say? I 
should think you'd fill the role to perfection. 

(Mrs. R. looks over Julia's shoulder at the paper.') 

Mrs. C. {aside to Mrs. W.). Don't talk like that. You 
will discourage her completely. You are upset, and she is 
reflecting your mood. 

Mrs. W. Indeed ? Then I must say she is a powerful 
reflector. 

Mrs. R. Recite them, and we will judge whether the 
lines are beyond you or not. And remember you are work- 
ing for a good cause. For if ever a club needed a club 
house, the Westchester Woman's Club surely does. 

Mrs. C. {to Julia, coaxingly). Come, let's hear them. 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS IQ 

(Julia walks unwillingly to the front of the stage and re- 
cites with a very dissatisfied air and tone.) 

I 

I don't wish to be a soubrette, 

And appear upon a stage, 
For histrionic honors I don't pine. 

I can't sing a ditty, 
So's to make it all the rage, 

I haven't any talent in that line. 

II 

I'm a plain and simple maiden, 

Without any airs or frills, 
Who shudders at the word publicity. 

To see my name upon a program, 
Doesn't give me any thrills ; 

I hate these silly stunts for charity. 

Ill 
This craze for seeing everything, 

Done up into a play, 
Is enough to make a thoughtful man shed tears. 

The money squandered every week, 
Upon the matinee, 

Would keep the poor in bread and meat for years. 

IV 

It's the never-failing topic. 

In the cars and on the street, 
Of stars who shine in stageland still they talk. 

They know all about the favorites. 
From their false hair to their feet, 

And can teil you how they stand, or sit or walk. 

V 

'• Have you seen the Russian actress. 

In that weird old Ibsen play? 
You don't like her? I think she's simply fine ! 

Mrs. Fiske, — oh, yes, — an artist. 
In her own peculiar way. 

Of course, she's good, — but Barrymore for mine." 



20 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

VI 

Maud Adams in her latest sketch, 

Is Mignonne, charming, dear, 
Did you ever notice Kyrle Bellew's eyes ? 

They do say LilHan Russell 
Is sixty — if a year, 

It's wonderful ! She ought to get a prize ! 

VII 

Do you like Maxine Elliott 
In that piece she's playing in ? 

In London town her beauty made a stir. 
Isn't Julia Marlowe perfect 

With that dimple in her chin ? 

I'd give the world if I could act like her. 

VIII 

Now, I don't wish to be an actress, 

And I haven't any craze 
To appear before the footlights, and all that. 

For I can find my happiness 
In very simple ways, 

A book — a flower — or, yes — even a hat. 

IX 

I'm just ordinary Julia, 

And that isn't Juliet, 
I don't appreciate dramatic art. 

And if you wish to make me happy, 
You will very promptly get 

Another, bolder maid, to take my part. 

X 

And if Westchester Women 

Should never get a club. 
They can't make a living picture out of me ! 

Before I'd act in vaudeville, 
I'd bake, or brew, or scrub. 

Or study osteopathy. 

Mrs. R. {clappinor). Splendid ! 
Mrs. C. Well done ! 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 21 

Julia. You just say that to be polite. But you all know 
that Anastasia Drew could do it a thousand times better. 

(^Exity door L.) 

Mrs. W. Poor child ! Between her disappointment over 
having such a mother, and her disappointment over the loss 
of her new hat 

Mrs. R. {interrupting). Her new hat ? Not that dream 
of tulle and roses you were telling me about ? 

Mrs. C. The same. That dream, like a good many 
other dreams, has vanished. 

Mrs. C. It must be in the house somewhere. 

Mrs. W. That's what 1 tell Julia, but she insists 

(Julia enters l., carrying a hat-box between her liamis.') 
There ! So you did find it ? 

Julia (in a peculiar tone). Yes; I found it. 

Mrs. W. You see nobody touched it. 

Julia {placing the box on the table and taking off the 
cover). It doesn't look as though it had been tampered 
with. 

Mrs. C. What color is it? 

Julia. Brown. 

Mrs. W. It is one of those confections that the French 
call delicieux — good enough to eat. 

Julia. Good enough to eat. Yes, that's just how it 
looks. 

( Takes a large chocolate cake from the box and places it on 
the table ; Mrs. W. stands staring at it.) 

Mrs. C. a chocolate cake . 

Mrs. R. How perfectly ridiculous ! 

Mrs. W. There is some queer mistake here. 

(Ruby enters r.) 

Ruby. Miss Holt is in the library and would like to 
speak to Miss Julia. 

Mrs. W. Ruby, come here. (Ruby advances, some- 
what reluctantly ; Mrs. W. points to the cake.) What does 
this mean ? 

Ruby {gazing stupidly at the cake). Wliy, that's the 



22 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

cake you told me to take round to Mrs. Ainslee's for her 
fair. 

Mrs. W. Yes. Well, why didn't you take it? 

Ruby. I did. 

Mrs. R. This is a case of having your cake and eating 
it, too. 

Mrs. W. Don't be idiotic ; don't you see that you 
didn't ! 

Ruby. But I did, ma'am. I took a box (^pointing) just 
like that. 

Julia {excitedly ; taking Ruby by the arm). You don't 
mean to say that you took my hat? Oh, I'm sure she has ! 
(^To Mrs. W.) You see, the palmist was right, 

Mrs. W. Julia, if you will kindly go and see Gertrude, 
we will try to unravel this without your assistance. (Mrs. C. 
leads Julia, expostulating^ to door l. Julia exits.) Now, 
Ruby, try to think calmly. Which box did you take to 
Mrs. Ainslee's? 

Ruby. That one. 

Mrs. W. That's impossible. {^Struck by a sudden 
thought.) Unless it was sent back. 

Ruby. No, ma'am ; it wasn't sent back. 

Mrs. W. Then how is it here ? 

Ruby. I don't know. 

Mrs. C. (to Mrs. W.). Was Julia's hat in a box similar 
to this one? 

Mrs. W. It wasn't unlike. 

Mrs. R. Then Mrs. Ainslee has the hat. But how did 
the hat get to the pantry, and the cake to the ward- 
robe ? 

Mrs. W. The hat had just come from Mme. Ribeau's, 
and was on the table in the hall. The cake I arranged in 
this box so as to protect the icing, and left it in the butler's 
pantry. You remember, Ruby, I told you where you would 
find it ? 

Ruby. Yes, ma'am; but I — I (^Stops.) 

Mrs. W. I see by your face that you took the other in- 
stead. That settles it. (To Mrs. R. ^zw^ Mrs. C.) This 
seems to be my lucky day. 

Mrs. C. What are you going to do about it? 

Mrs. R. You had better 'phone to Mrs. Ainslee at 
once. 

Mrs. W. It is too late now. They had a millinery booth 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 23 

at the fair, and, of course, the hat is sold. The pahiiist \\\is 
right, after all. 

Ruby (^struck by a sudden thought; taking a note from 
the bib of her apron). Please, ma'am, here's a note Mrs. 
Ainslee's coachman brought a few minutes ago. 

Mrs. W. {taking it). Why didn't you give it to me at 
once? It might have saved all this discussion. (^Dismisses 
Ruby with a ^notion of the hand ; exit Ruby, k.) Such 
monumental stupidity ! {Opens the note.) With your per- 
mission. {^As she reads, her expression is a mixture of in- 
credulity and anger.) This is too much ! 

{Sinks into a chair.) 

Mrs. R. What is it? 

Mrs. C. What's the matter? 

Mrs. W. {to Mrs. C). Will you kindly close the 
portieres ? 

Mrs. C. {ivonderingly). Certainly. {Closes them.) 

Mrs. W. {handing Mrs. R. the note). Read it, please. 

Mrs. R. Aloud? (Mrs. W. nods. Mrs. R. reads.) 
"My dear Mrs. Whitney: You will be pleased to hear that 
our fair, held for the benefit of the Westchester Woman's 
Club, was a great financial success. And, thanks to you, 
my booth netted more than any of the others. When I 
wrote you that anything from a cake to an Easter bonnet 
would be acceptable, I never dreamed that you would take 
me up so generously. The chapeau was perfect. Congrat- 
ulate your milliner for me, and ask her, please, where she got 
those lovely roses. It was bought by your neighbor, Mrs. 
Drew " 

Mrs. C. Mrs. Drew ! 

Mrs. R. {reading). *' at a price which was high 

enough to suit even yours truly. And I couldn't help think- 
ing when I saw the hat on Anastasia's bright curls, that 
there, and there only, would the chic confection fulfil its 
highest destiny. Gratefully yours, Anna B. Ainslee." {Folds 
the note.) So the Drews are on top once more ! 

Mrs. C. {indig?iant and angry). Anastasia's bright 
curls, indeed ! I would get back that hat if it was the last 
thing I did on earth ! 

Mrs. R. {to Mrs. W.). How delightfully human your 
sister is after all. 



:>4 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

Mrs. \V. Yes; I don't need to rave any more. She'll 
do it for rae. 

Mrs. C. {to Mrs. W.). Aren't you going to explain 
matters? It isn't too late. 

Mrs. W. What's the use? Why not leave it, where, as 
Mrs. Ainslee with such fine discrimination remarks, it is ful- 
filling its highest destiny. You can't imagine what a com- 
fort it is to know, that if there is any one in this town who 
will look better in that hat than my Julia, it is Anastasia 
Drew. 

Mrs. R. I can appreciate how comforting that thought 
must be. {To Mrs. C.) Then you must remember that, 
after all, it wasn't Mrs. Drew's fault. She didn't know the 
hat was Julia's. 

Mrs. C. I believe she knew all about it. It's a plot — a 
malicious plot. 

Mrs. R. {to Mrs. W.). Your sister is getting there. 

Mrs. W. Yes. Pretty soon she will be where I was 
half an hour ago. 

Mrs. R. It is really wonderful the effect that poor, dear, 
innocent Mrs. Drew has on people. 

Mrs. C. Innocent, indeed ! You'll never make me be- 
lieve that ! 

Mrs. W. {listening). I think I hear Julia. {To Mrs. 
C.) Please don't let her come in here just now. That ex- 
planation is going to be awkward. I'd like to postpone it 
as long as possible. (Mrs. C. exits ^ l.) It's worth the 
hat to see Rachel so worked up. Would you have believed 
it of her? Do you know, the moment she began to get ex- 
cited, a sudden calm fell on my spirit. 

Mrs. R. I understand. You felt soothed — sustained. 
That's how I used to feel when my husband would use 
strong language, and call Mrs. Drew an old crocodile. 

Mrs. W. I wish my husband would call her something 
for me. 

{Enter Ruby, r. ) 

Ruby {to Mrs. W.). A lady wishes to see you. 

{Exit, R.) 

Mrs. W. {after a start of dismayed recollection). 
Harriet ! 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 2$ 

Mrs. R. {going to her). Here I am, Another shock. 
This seems to be a sort of continuous performance. Well, 
I'll stand by you, whatever it is. 

Mrs. W. {loiuering her voice). It's Mrs. Tyson ! 

Mrs. R. Is it — is she — very formidable? 

Mrs. VV. Yes; especially on a moving day. Dick 
'phoned she was coming, and I forgot all about it. In fact, 
1 thought he was joking. Well, one good joke deserves 
another. He will get mine to-night. 

Mrs. R. Poor Dick ! Is there anything 1 can do for 
you ? 

Mrs. W. Yes ; stay and see me through the day. 

Mrs. R. Willingly ; you know I love excitement. 

Mrs. W. (^putting her hands to her head). How's my 
hair? 

Mrs. R. It isn't quite as smooth as Anastasia'smarcelle, 
but it will do. (^Exit Mrs. W., door r. ; Mrs. R. takes a 
book and settles herself to read ; enter Mrs. C, door L.) 
Well, did you break the news to Julia? 

Mrs. C. I didn't see her. But I'll tell you what I did 
see. I saw a moving van in front of the Drews'. Can it be 
that they are going to move? 

Mrs. R. Vain hope ! Families may come and families 
may go, but the Drews stay on forever. The van is meant 
for this house, but everything goes to the Drews first. 

Mrs. C. Where's Estelle ? 

Mrs. R. a visitor has just been announced — a Mrs. 
Tyson. 

Mrs. C. Mrs. Archibald Tyson ? 

Mrs. R. I don't know whether she was guilty of marry- 
ing an Archibald or not, but I wouldn't be surprised. 

(^ Phone rings] Mrs. C. goes to it.) 

Mrs. C. {at the 'phone). Hello ! {Pause.) How do 
you do, Dick? {Pause.) Yes, I came over this morning. 
{Pause.) Estelle is engaged at present with Mrs. Tyson. 
{Pause.) What's that? Mrs. Tyson has just boarded the 
train for Boston? How can that be? 

Mrs. R. Ubiquitous Mrs. Tyson ! 

Mrs. C. {at the * phone). Just a moment, please. {To 
Mrs. R. ) You said Mrs. Tyson, didn't you? 

Mrs. R. Yes ; but I didn't say Mrs. Archibald Tyson. 

Mrs. C. There is only one Mrs. Tyson. 



26 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

Mrs. R. I was beginning to think there were two. 

Mrs. C. {at the 'phone). Hello ! {Pause.') Of course, 
there must be some mistake. (Pause; laughs.) I'll take 
your word for it. {Pause.) To call you up in half an 
hour ? Very well ; I'll tell her. Good-bye. 

{Hangs up receiver.) 

Mrs. R. Now which Mrs. Tyson is in the drawing- 
room ; and which Mrs. Tyson boarded the train for Boston ; 
and where is Archibald that he isn't looking after his wife? 
{Enter Mrs. VV.) Has your visitor gone? 

Mrs. W. Yes ; a harmless book canvasser. 

Mrs. R. So there is only one Mrs. Tyson after all, and 
your husband has just 'phoned that she is on her way to 
Boston. 

Mrs. W. Thank goodness ! 

Mrs. C. a book agent ! 

Mrs. W. Yes; and in my relief, I subscribed in my 
husband's name to a work in five volumes entitled, " Amer- 
ican Humorists" ; also three magazines and a compendium 
of art needlework, and informed the bewildered female that 
if she would get up a booklet telling me how to get rid 
of objectionable neighbors, I would buy it on the spot. 
{Toward the last of the above Anastasia Drew appears in 
the doorway ; she is young, pretty and fashionably dressed ; 
she ivears a large hat trimmed with roses ; Mrs. C, who 
is first to see Anastasia, gives Mrs. W. ati admonishing 
touch.) What's the matter; what have I said? {Sees 
Anastasia, gives a slight gasp ; aside, before going to tneet 
her.) Julia's hat ! {Aloud.) How do you do, Miss Drew? 

Anastasia {advancing). Pardon me, but I heard voices. 
And as the maid seemed busy with some workmen in the 
library, I took the liberty of coming in. 

Mrs. W. Certainly. {Introduces.) My sister, Mrs. 
Clarke. (Mrs. C. bows stiffly.) Mrs. Roberts, of course, 
you know. 

Anastasia. Yes, indeed. We are old friends; aren't 
we, Mrs. Roberts? {Shakes hands.) 

Mrs. R. {dryly). We have known each other a good 
many years. 

Mrs. W. {offering Anastasia a chair). ^Von't you be 
seated ? 

Anastasia {seating herself). 1 really can't stay a mo- 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS • ^'J 

ment. {^The others seat themselves ; Mrs. C. /tea?- Mrs. W.) 
We are all upset at our house. 

Mrs. W. We are in the same condition. 

Anastasia. So I see. How queer that we both should 
be moving at the same time. 

Mrs. W. {starting forward in her chair'). At tlie same 
time ! You don't mean to say that you are going to move? 

Anastasia {jiodding). I knew it would surprise you. 

Mrs. W, Surprise me ! Why, I certainly can't grasp ! 

Why didn't you tell me ? If 1 had known ! It 

seems too goo — too sudden ! 

Anastasia. It was sudden — at tlie last. Though we 
have known about it for some time, but didn't wish to say 
anything until we were absolutely sure. Now it is settled. 
But 1 must say I think it was very inconsiderate of grandpa ! 

Mrs. R. Is your grandfather on here ? 

Anastasia. On here? Why, he's dead. 

Mrs. R. Indeed ! I'm very sorry to hear that. 

Mrs. W. {following her own train of thought). Are 
you sure ? 

Anastasia {in some astonishment). . I beg your pardon ? 

Mrs. W. 1 mean about the moving. There is no mis- 
take? 

(Mrs. C. coughs slightly.) 

Anastasia. Mistake ! I wish there were. As for mamma, 
she felt so badly at the thought of going, that she was almost 
on the point of refusing grandpa's money, and staying here. 

Mrs. R. How rash ! 

Mrs. W. It would be madness ! Please don't let her 
think of such a thing ! 

Anastasia. Oh, she has fully made up her mind to go. 

Mrs, W. But she might change it. Wouldn't it be 
terrible if after all ! 

(Mrs. C. picks her handkerchief from the floor and puts it 
into Mrs. W.'s hand.) 

Mrs. R. {interrupting ; hastily). Do I understand that 
your grandfather has made your inheritance conditional on 
your living in (Stops.) 

Anastasia. In Kalamazoo. Isn't it awful ! 

Mrs. W. Kalamazoo ! Did you hear that, Rachel, — 
Kalamazoo ! {2o Anastasia.) How far is that? 



28 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

Anastasia. About eight hundred miles, I should judge. 

Mrs. \V. Eight hundred miles ! Think of it ! And 
you are going to stay there for good ? Do you know I can 
hardly believe it ! 

Anastasia {in a discontented tone). It will seem very 
strange. 

Mrs. W. You'll get used to it. The West is a fine 
place for young people. 

Anastasia {looking surprised). I understood that you 
didn't like the West. 

Mrs. W. {quickly). Oh, yes, I do ! I'll never run 
down the West again — never ! I 

Mrs. R. {interrupting, hastily ; to Anastasia). When 
do you expect to leave ? 

Mrs. W. {eagerly). Yes, when do you expect to leave? 

Anastasia. Just as soon as we can arrange matters. 
Mamma does not believe in procrastination. 

Mrs. W. That's right. Delays are dangerous. 

Mrs. R. Mrs. Whitney believes that if a thing — no mat- 
ter how disagreeable — has to be done, the sooner it is done 
the better. 

Mrs. W. Yes, the sooner the better. 

{A slight, sofftewhat embarrassed pause ; Mrs. R. and 
Mrs. C. exchange amused and helpless glances.) 

Mrs. C. {to Mrs. W.). Perhaps there is something we 
can do to help Mrs. Drew. 

Mrs. W. {to Anastasia). Yes; if there is anything we 
can do to accelerate — facilitate matters, we will gladly do it. 

Mrs. R. Gladly 

Anastasia. Thank you. I — in fact the object of my 
visit this morning was to ask you to use your influence with 
mamma, and persuade her to stay 

Mrs. W. {interrupting; dismayed). Persuade her to 
stay ! My dear child, I have no influence with your 
mother. And in a matter of so much importance, I would 
hardly 

Anastasia {interrupting). Oh, I mean just to persuade 
her to rest for a week or two before beginning that tiresome 
journey. She has a frightful cold, and is really in no con- 
dition to travel. 

Mrs. W. Oh ! for a week or two. Well, if it is only for 
a week or two (Mrs. C, %vho has been toying with a 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 29 

paper-knife^ drops it with a sharp sound ; Mrs. W. turns 
/^ Mrs. C.) Eh? 

Mrs. R. {to Anastasia). I don't think you need feel 
apprehensive. I have noticed that for a cold there is noth- 
ing so beneficial as change of air. 

Mrs. W. Yes, indeed. {To Mrs. C.) You remember 
what Atlantic City did for you. 

(Mrs. C. nods ; lays the paper-knife on the table.) 

Mrs. R. Of course Atlantic City and Kalamazoo are 
two very different 

Mrs. W. {interrupting^). The result is the same. 

Anastasia. So you think it would be perfectly sake for 
mamma to travel ? 

Mrs. W. Perfectly. {To Mrs. R.) Don't you? 

Mrs. R. I think she might risk it. 

Anastasia. Thank you. I feel quite reassured. {Rises.) 
And now I must go. Mamma doesn't know where I am. 

(Julia appears in the doorway ^ door l. ; Mrs. C. goes to 

her.) 

Julia {in a smothered voice). My hat ! 

(Mrs. C. seizes her arm ; they both disappear behind the 

portiere, l.) 

Anastasia {turning her head). What was that ? 

Mrs. W. {hastily). Don't hurry away. Let me help 
you to some cake. {Goes to the table.) 

Anastasia {to Mrs. R.). Didn't you hear something ? 

Mrs. R. Yes ; I believe I did. 

Anastasia {to Mrs. W., who has seized the paper-knife 
and is about to thrust it into the cake). Oh, no, thank 
you. Please don't cut it. I couldn't possibly. 

Mrs. W. Really? 

Anastasia. Really. (Mrs. W. lays doivn the paper- 
knife.) I must be going. Good-bye. 

{Shakes hands with Mrs. R.) 

Mrs. W. {shaking hands). Good-bye. And please tell 
your mother she may call upon me for anything she needs. 
Can't I give you something for the trip — steamer- chair, 
rugs? 



30 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

Mrs. R. My dear, it isn't a sea voyage. 

Mrs. VV. Of course not ! How stupid of me ! Well, 
if there is anything you need 

Anastasia. Thank you ; and before I leave, may I ask 
you to believe that in the matter of the maid — Betty, we aie 
entirely innocent. Mamma wouldn't 

Mrs. VV. {interrupting). Of course, she wouldn't ! I 
said as much to my sister. Pray, don't mention it. 

(Anastasia and Mrs. W. leave the room, door r. ; their 
voices die aivay in the distance, ) 

Mrs. R. {going to door l., pnlling back the portiere, and 
c a Hi tig softly). Julia ! 

{Enter Julia, h., followed by Mrs. C.) 

JuLL\. Did she hear me ? I couldn't help it. 

Mrs. R. She heard something. But I'm sure she didn't 
understand. 

Julia. My hat ! And on Anastasia Drew ! I wonder 
if mamma will say now that the palmist didn't know what 
he was talking about. 

(Mrs. W. runs in.) 

Mrs. W. It's all true — every word of it ! There is a 
moving van in front of their door ! 

Mrs. C. Estelle, I never saw anything like the way you 
behaved. 

Mrs. W. It was abominable, I know, but I couldn't help 
it. So don't scold, dear, but try to realize what it means to 
see a moving van in front of the Drews ! Dear me ! I'll 
burst forth into song pretty soon. 

Julia. Hadn't we better call up father, and tell him 
what has happened? {Goes to 'phone.) 

Mrs. VV. She's afraid I'm going to sing. 

Mrs. C. {to Mrs. W.). I forgot to tell you that Dick 
wished you to call him up. 

Mrs. W. {to Julia). Very well. Call up your father. 
But don't look at me so reproachfully. {^Puts her hand on 
Julia's shoulder.) I haven't been a mother to you this 
day, I know. I've been impatient and impossible ! But 
wait ! I'll be a changed woman. Our star of hope has 
risen over far Kalamazoo. {Turns /^ Mrs. R.) If they 
hatl taken a place in town, I never would have felt safe. 



THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 3I 

But Kalamazoo is just right ! Do you know, we didn't ap- 
preciate dear old grandpa when he was on here last sum- 
mer. Had I dreamed that the old gentleman was going to 
put that saving clause in his will, I would have kissed his 
hand as the hand of a benefactor, and thanked him with 
tears ! 

Mrs. R. I always admired him — a shrewd, kindly old 
man. 

Mrs. W. Shrewd ? I should say so. You notice he 
didn't invite her to come and stay with him until he was 
dead. 

Julia. Mamma ! How absurd ! 

Mrs. W. Not so absurd as it sounds, my dear'. 

{Ejiter RuBV, r.) 

Ruby. The packers have finished with the china and 
glass. What will they do next ? 

Mrs. W. I forgot all about those men! (7> Ruby.) 
Go and tell them to unpack it again. 

Ruby. Unpack it again ? 

Julia (at the 'phone). 6543 Main, please. 

Mrs. W. Yes. Unpack it again, and put it back in the 
china closet and on the sideboard. Our plans are changed. 
We have heard good news. We are not going to move. 
So hurry and tell them so, and get the house put to rights. 
(Ruby stands staring.) Ruby, don't stare, but go ! {^Exit 
Ruby, r.) Now I know what Browning means by sympathetic 
sideboards. He means the kind that are laden with your 
own china and glass, and that reflect in each polished panel 
your happy face. 

Mrs. R. As a member of the Browning class, I am glad 
to have that explanation. It sounds plausible. 

Julia (at the 'phone). Hello ! Hold the wire a mo- 
ment, please. (^To Mrs. W.) Do you wish to tell father? 

Mrs. W. Do I wish to tell father? My dear, I wish to 
tell everybody. I am dying to scream it from the house- 
top ! 

Julia. You'll be heard all right without going to the 
housetop. 

Mrs. W. Isn't it strange that a bubbling, enthusiastic 
woman like myself should have such a cold-blooded 
daughter ? 

Julia. Mamma ! 



32 THOSE DREADFUL DREWS 

Mrs. W. (smoothing Julia's hair). There, my angel ! 
Just wait till you see the new hat — two of them that I am 
going to get you. And, dear, I haven't told you how sorry 
I am about that unfortunate mix-up. Still thai hat was 
dreadfully heavy, and I read in the papers — {turns to Mrs. 
R. and Mrs. C.) did you see that? — about a woman who 
fainted under the weight of her head-gear. {To Julia.) 
So you see — that perhaps — after all 

Julia {interrupting). Father is waiting. 

Mrs. \V. Well, he is going to get something worth while 
waiting for. {Takes ]\jiaa's place at the 'phone.) Hello! 
Yes. {Pause.) Never mind that just now. Listen to me, 
and keep a good grip on that office chair the while. Are 
you ready? {Pause.) The Drews are going to move. 
{Pause ; raises her voice.) The Drews ! 

Julia. S-s-s-h ! 

Mrs. W. {at the 'phone). Yes ! Yes ! {Aside.) He 
is fairly stuttering, he is so excited. I'd give a hundred 
dollars to see his face. {At the 'phone.) What's that? 
(Pause.) Yes. You can come home to-night and sleep 
like a Christian in your own bed — ^just think of it ! 

Mrs. C. One would suppose he had spent his life camp- 
ing out. 

Mrs. W. {at the 'phone). Celebrate, did you say? I 
am certainly in the mood. {Pause.) Yes. The four of 
us, Mrs. Roberts, Rachel, the Cherub (Julia makes a 
vioue)j and myself. 

Mrs. R. What's this? 

Mrs. W. {to Mrs. R.). Luncheon in town and the 
matinee. 

Mrs. R. {protesting feebly). But 

Mrs. W. Now don't say no. Just imagine how you 
would have felt, if it had happened when you lived in num- 
ber forty. 

Mrs. R. I give in. 

Mrs. W. {at the 'phone). Yes. We'll all be there on 
the 12:10. {Pause.) Too good to be true? Almost. 
{Pause.) Not just now. I'll tell you all about it after- 
ward. Good-bye. {Hangs up receiver.) Hurry and get 
your things on, ladies. We haven't a minute to spare. I'll 
see about the packers and tell Ruby. 

(Mrs. W. goes toward \.. door. Mrs. R. takes lier wraps.) 



THOSE DREADFtfL DREWS 33 

Julia. Wouldn't it be better to wait until they are gone 
before we celebrate ? 

Mrs. C. (Jo Mrs. W., with a touch of anxiety'). You 
feel perfectly sure on that point, don't you? 

Mrs. W. Perfectly. 

Mrs. C. Thank goodness ! (^As they leave the roo??i.) 
I, for one, shall be glad to see the last of "Those Dreadful 
Drews." 



CURTAIN 



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